Things that Go Bump in the Night
by LAPoch
Summary: Sequel to Secrets and Ghosts. Takes place after Sara has left Vegas. Grissom bumps his head and is sent to the hospital. The team has to find Sara and bring her back. Dr. Lurie comes back looking for revenge. GSR! Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

**Setting: Approximately one month after Sara's departure in "Good bye, and Good Luck."**

**Summary: This story is a sequel to Secrets and Ghosts, but you do not **_**need**_** to read that one to follow this one. Secrets and Ghosts takes place between the first two episodes of season eight. A pivotal character is Dr. Vincent Lurie. He was the prime suspect in the double murder in the episode from season four, "Butterflied," suspected of murdering his former girlfriend, a nurse, Debbie Marlin, along with her current boyfriend. Grissom confessed his feelings about Sara in that episode after he was consumed with the case, since the victim bore an uncanny resemblance to Sara. He was never able to get enough evidence to convict Lurie. Much later, when Sara is rescued in the desert, Vincent Lurie is the doctor assigned to her. He has a confrontation with Grissom, he acts obsessed over Sara, and he ultimately fails in a convoluted plot to make Grissom look guilty of physical abuse toward Sara based on old fractures he discovered. He is reported for his inappropriate actions by a social worker who observed all this, and is suspended of his hospital privileges pending an investigation. This story picks up the outcome of that inquiry, as well as a scare when our favorite CSI has a critical accident requiring admission to the hospital. Now the team must try to find Sara to notify her of Grissom's condition, while they watch out for the notorious, and vengeful, Dr. Lurie.**

_**Things that go bump in the night**_

It was now weeks since Sara's abrupt departure from Las Vegas. Wounds were just beginning to heal. The family that spawned from the graveyard team that Grissom built had lost one of its own. While everyone was grieving in their own way; they had double duty having to tip toe around Gil Grissom. He had become one difficult man to be around. He was clearly in pain, but refused any concern or help. All they could do was to try not to upset him anymore than he already was, but that was nearly impossible. Everything bothered him. Every question, every look, no matter how compassionate; set him off. He didn't want to share anything about Sara. Finally, everyone knew that was totally off limits, and her name never came up around him at the lab after a while.

Eventually, he began to show signs of coming around. He wasn't working ALL the time. He even started to look rested on occasion. A smile might have made its way onto his face at times. He started laughing at jokes; even telling one or two. But, Sara's name was never uttered around him, and that seemed to be the way it was to be.

In the meantime, while that worked for Grissom; it didn't work so well for the rest of them. Greg in particular had tried to reach out to Sara after she left. He boldly dialed her cell phone over and over until she finally picked up, but she had no answers for his questions. She merely asked for his trust that she was doing what she had to do. He was instantly suspicious of Grissom, but he truly had no idea what may have happened between them. Finally, Nick couldn't stand the silence; the not knowing, so he tried her, only to learn she had stopped her cell phone, and he knew no other way to reach her. The only way for any of them to reach Sara was through Grissom, and he had barricaded that passageway, it was impenetrable. They were totally cut off from her.

As Grissom's mood noticeably improved; they were left to wonder if it was because they had been in contact, even been together maybe, or was it simply time healing raw wounds. No one dared ask about her; so they were left to speculate.

"I think they're back together; to what degree, I'm not so sure about." Nick drawled, hanging out in the break room with the team, awaiting assignments.

"And what makes you so clued in all of a sudden?" Warrick shot back.

"Well, I was the one to pick up on Grissom dating _somebody, _I was first on that!" he sort of shrugged, and cocked his head, "And, he's acting sorta the same way. He's happier, he's leaving work on time; he even took a couple of days off a while back. Those are the signs, man."

"How do you know he didn't find somebody else?" Warrick braved the question.

Catherine and Greg looked up in shock, waiting for Nick's answer. He smiled and shook his head, "Warrick, how dense do you have to be?" and he threw a wadded up napkin at him. "You saw those two at the hospital, and Grissom when she was in harm's way; besides, how long did it take him to find _her_? Half a century? He's not going to fall again in a matter of weeks. No, one thing I know for sure, there's nobody else."

At this point Catherine chimed in, "Well, I've long since given up on figuring him out, and I definitely gave up on him confiding in me. But, ya'll can run with this game if you want."

Greg just sat silently. He had suspicions about Sara and Grissom long before anyone else, but he'd kept it to himself. Now, he really wasn't sure what was happening. He was so hurt that Sara left without a good bye, or a reason that he could understand. He still blamed Grissom for it all, but he really had no idea why he would cause her to leave when he was obviously devastated by it. So, he felt, more than ever, at a loss to try to explain Grissom's mood.

"How 'bout you, Greggo!" Warrick asked, "You've been mighty quiet over there. Got some secrets you're keeping?"

"I'm totally in the dark," Greg spoke in a humorless reply. They all knew it was hands off, as he stared into his coffee mug.

Mercifully, just then the man himself strode into the break room, "You guys look like you're at a funeral!" Grissom quipped with a smirk on his face. A few chuckles followed the irony of his comment. "Alright, here we go. Catherine and Greg, you have a DB at the parking lot behind the Bellagio. Nick and Warrick, a shoot out at a crack house on East Rendon. It's a mess, Brass wasn't even sure the final body count, they're still sorting things out. I'll go along with you, but there's something I need to do first. Here's the address; I'll meet you there."

Grissom retreated to his office. He and Sara had fallen into a routine. While she had assimilated back into the world that sleeps at night and works by day; they found a good night call to her shortly after the start of his shift was perfectly timed. He then called after the shift was over for her to return the good night wishes to him. They shared the important milestones that were crossed during her absence, on both sides; but, it was the mundane life events that were shared as well. And it was those that made them feel that they were still connected; still sharing a life. Once inside his office, behind closed doors, he flipped open his cell phone, and hit a speed dial number.

"Hello, Gilbert."

"Hi," chuckling at the sound of his given name in her sultry voice. He settled into his couch for a brief visit with the love in his life.

TBC….


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

The scene at the crack house was particularly grisly. The house itself was a dilapidated shell in a state of advanced disrepair. Littered throughout the house had been lost souls; trying to become even more lost through the mind numbing effects of crack cocaine, and anything else they could procure. Lives laying waste; feeling nothing at all, when suddenly _somebody_ had an emotion, actually felt something, but not in a good way. Tempers flared, a gun appeared, and shots rang out. Shots hit almost randomly as the shooter had obviously long since lost any ability to actually stand steady and aim. Many in the house were unable to fathom what was unfolding, and unable, even, to get out of harms way. Those who were just completely oblivious; they had to be sorted out from the injured and the dead. The EMT's had their hands full.

Brass was waiting in front of the house for the CSI's. "I dunno, I've seen some messed up people in my day, but this scene….." Shaking his head, he continued, "Follow me, this room off to the right rear of the house; it appears most of the action happened in here."

Nick and Warrick followed Brass into the dimly lit hell hole, gingerly stepping over the debris that littered the entry hall. Immediately flipping on their flashlights to guide their way, they both shuddered as they took in the sheer volume of work they were looking at to process this place. Entering the room Brass spoke of, they took in the sight of a dead body strewn across the floor; blood oozing from an obvious bullet hole in his abdomen. "There's this guy here, another across the hall there in that doorway, and another dude outside with the EMT's who was hit in the arm evidently as he passed in front of that window," Brass gestured at a busted out excuse of a window on the far side of the room. "Have fun, guys," he sarcastically intoned, as he made his way back outside to try and get a lucid story out of _somebody_.

Nick and Warrick could only groan and sigh at the filth and clutter of the room, "You want that side, I'll start over here?" Nick suggested.

"Sure, why not, I mean we got to start somewhere," Warrick complied.

"Hey, guys, sorry I'm late," David lamented.

"Don't worry, Super Dave, we've got plenty to keep us busy until you release the body."

David looked around the room, nodding and cringing in understanding.

Just then Grissom appeared at the doorway. "You guys keep processing here; I'm going to be across the hall." He left Nick and Warrick sifting through dirty needles, various blood drops, and lots of other trash and questionable stains, cussing as they went.

Grissom slowly made his way through the rest of the house. It was an old raised cottage, a bit out of place for Vegas, but that was irrelevant as it had long since lost the character that made it someone's home. Most rooms had EMT's evaluating individuals in various states of incapacitation. As Grissom studied the second body in the hallway; he stepped over him and into another room. The room was directly across the hallway from Nick and Warrick, and it was possible that the shooter was firing from Grissom's room. He was able to stand in one place with both bodies and the window in range. He began to study the room, snapping pictures, and scanning the spent drug paraphernalia strewn about, when something caught his eye. Over against the wall was a silver chain. It shone brightly in his light, and was markedly different from the rest of the objects littering the floor. It was beauty in clear contrast to the filth; it had to be probative. Grissom made his way to it; watching his step as he tread through the minefield of a few scattered, spent needles. Just as he was rooting through his vest for his forceps, the floor board gave way allowing his left foot to fall to the ground beneath the house. The rest of his body fell forward awkwardly; his down hand got stuck in the vest pocket, and he was unable to arrest his fall. His left temple hit the edge of a window sill quite hard, the full weight of him behind it. When he finally landed in a crumpled heap, his knee was painfully twisted as it emerged from the hole in the floor, and his head wound had a trickle of blood flowing down his cheek. He let out a howl at the sudden perception of pain from both his leg and his head, bringing Nick and Warrick across the hall in an instant. "Griss, what the hell…" Warrick gasped at the sight. They each grabbed an arm for leverage, and let Grissom work his leg free of the hole. There was a whole section of floor that was damp and rotting, and by giving way helped keep his knee from being hurt worse than it was. He kicked wood free to bring it up. When he was finally standing, "We need to get you checked out," Nick admonished as he left to find one of the overburdened EMT's.

"They've got enough to do!" he shouted after Nick, but he was already heading out. "Warrick, do you see any needles, or any other debris for that matter, in my clothes?"

Warrick combed over every inch of Grissom, "I don't know how, but nothing _stuck_ to you."

Grissom winced at the pun, "Thank God for that. I wouldn't want to inadvertently get stuck later; sharing body fluids with this crowd is not something I would take lightly." Grissom was clearly relieved about that, but rubbing his knee, he was obviously hurting.

"I think your head hit the only solid piece of this entire house," Warrick stated, as he inspected the window sill, and the crumbling floor. "I think this wood rotted because of the leak from up here," he observed, as he pointed his flashlight on a water stained ceiling.

"Figures," he said, wincing.

"Let me see that Dr. Grissom," a young female EMT spoke as she stepped over the body, returning with Nick.

"It's fine, really," Grissom tried to avoid her, but was unable to walk without a limp.

The woman was undaunted, she flashed her light on the head wound, and quickly examined his pupils. "At least come out to the rig and let me clean that up for you. I might even have a splint for that knee."

"Come on Grissom, let her get the filth of this place out of that hard head," Nick pleaded with him.

Rolling his eyes, he started out of the house, holding his head, and limping noticeably.

TBC…..


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

A/N: This chapter is a flashback that gives some closure on Dr. Vincent Lurie's actions chronicled in Secrets and Ghosts. In case you haven't read that one, there is a synopsis at the start of chapter one. Or, you may just wan to skip it; after this chapter, you won't need to be familiar with S & G to follow this story. Chapter four picks back up with the current storyline, and I promise some surprises are coming!

_**6 weeks earlier…**_

Marion Davies' report containing detailed accounts of Vincent Lurie's obsessive behavior surrounding Sara Sidle arrived at the executive committee level of Desert Palms Hospital. It was first submitted to the ethics committee, but they felt it was too hot to handle. The ethics committee kicked it up to the top governing entity of the hospital, the executive committee. Lurie already had two complaints filed against him for sexual harassment of female employees. As it was the third such report on him; his privileges were suspended immediately pending an investigation. Notice was forwarded to the Nevada licensing board as well. A subcommittee was formed, which was rather favorable for Lurie. However, in the meantime, the workaholic physician stalked around his house. Rage building daily toward the man he already hated. Gil Grissom couldn't put him in jail literally, but this was the next closest thing he reasoned. He was kept away from his livelihood and his reputation was in jeopardy to say the least, not to mention his medical license. Waiting for the resolution of the matter was torture, and the wheels of justice in the hospital turned slowly.

The report finally arrived at the desk of Dr. Randall Gardner, the appointed chairman of the subcommittee. The good doctor was a venerable member of the Desert Palms Hospital staff. He had served the hospital in innumerable capacities over the years, and took great pride in the accomplishments and reputation of the hospital. To say he was saddened by the report was an understatement; a high profile member of an esteemed medical staff cast in this kind of light. He planned to make it go away anyway he could.

He held out his hand and greeted the other members of the subcommittee as they filed in and took their seats. Dr. Price was the most objective of the three. He was inclined to integrate past offences with the present findings, and weed out a problem physician; hospital reputation be damned. Dr. James Bryan, the third member of the subcommittee was somewhere in between; certainly not wanting to come down on a colleague, but at least willing to look into things.

"Has everyone reviewed the report?" Dr. Gardner began; with the nods he received he went forward. "Looks like Vince got this social worker a bit riled." He chuckled a bit, as he thumbed the pages of the report.

"On the contrary," Price interjected, "I met with the social worker who filed the report. She has no animosity towards Vincent Lurie. She was merely looking into a possible domestic abuse situation in one of his patients, when she was told of all this by people observing him. She felt compelled to report it, and I'd say she's done so quite objectively."

Bryan spoke up to bridge the gap between these polar opposites, "Well, our task at hand is to see if there's really something to this, so let's go about it." He opened his folder and began, "Basically, it looks like there are two separate issues here; an odd obsession with his female patient, and a vendetta of sorts against her boyfriend."

"Let's not waste anymore time here, I'd like to get Vince's side of this," Gardner bellowed out. When no one objected, he buzzed the receptionist to see Dr. Lurie in. He had been outside waiting for this reason, to give his explanation of the behavior described in the report. At the moment he was on suspension pending an inquiry, but he had yet to hear the details of the complaint, or who filed it, for that matter. The letter informing him of his suspension was somewhat vague. It only mentions his conduct regarding his care of Sara Sidle; that it was described as inappropriate on multiple levels. Lurie had incorrectly assumed Grissom had complained about how Sara's social service consult had been handled.

After the greetings and handshakes were done, everyone took their seats; Gardner behind his desk, and the other three in chairs arranged in an arc in front of it. "Vince, we have a few questions for you regarding a complaint forwarded to us regarding your handling of a patient, Sara Sidle."

"Yes, I was informed that was why I was suspended, but I'm at a loss to know what in the world I'm supposed to have done to provoke such action."

"You were observed by everyone who saw you with this patient, to be, well, fixated on her," Gardner cut to the chase.

"In what way?"

"Staring at her, to the point of ignoring everyone else in the room."

"She reminded me of someone I once knew. The resemblance was remarkable," Lurie replied reverently.

This time it was James Bryant who spoke up, "It was Debbie Marlin, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Lurie replied softly, "it was amazing, really, like she had come back to life." He smiled as he continued, "Haven't you studied someone when they look familiar; you look longer than you should, it's true."

"But, Vince," Price shot back, "You freaked everybody out with it. It was more than just a lingering look."

"Is that what this is all about? How I _looked_ at her?"

"That's part of it. So many people remarked on it; it was hard to ignore," Bryan offered by way of an explanation.

"OK, well, it is what it is. I looked at her intently; she was so much like Debbie I couldn't believe my eyes." Lurie continued, now a bit agitated, "I never even _touched _her! For Christ sake, James, I didn't even examine her; Braily, my resident, did _every_ exam."

"Calm down there, Vince," Gardner cautioned.

"The third floor nurses stated that you made a few trips to that unit by yourself the night that patient was admitted. What was that about?" Price questioned.

"I was checking on other patients there."

"Come on, Vince, you've got a legion of people you could send to do that for you."

"So now I get a knock for being conscientious?"

"No, it was your inquiries to the nursing staff about the presence of visitors with your patient, Ms. Sidle, while you were up there. What was _that_ about?" Price asked pointedly.

"I was concerned for her. I didn't think she should be by herself after being left for dead, all alone, in the desert."

"And if she hadn't had someone with her; what were you going to do?" now James Bryan was curious. Silence permeated the room.

Lurie looked at each face in the room; they were all trained on him, waiting for some kind of explanation. "Nothing," he stated nonchalantly, "I was just so relieved to know someone was with her, after all."

Price rolled his eyes, the committee members exchanged glances, acknowledging it was time to move on. He had covered his tracks. Gardner shifted gears, "The patient had a clinical situation which required a social services consult to rule out domestic abuse."

"That's correct."

"No one is questioning that, but, Vince, it looks like you went out of your way to cast a shadow of doubt on the current boyfriend."

"Rightfully so!" Lurie replied, "He struck me as a controlling jerk; totally capable of inflicting that kind of abuse."

Bryan took a deep breath, "Vince, wasn't this the guy who investigated Debbie and Michael's murder?"

"Yes, it was."

"And this had nothing to do with your opinion of him?" Gardner asked, serving up his answer on a silver platter.

"No, of course not."

James Bryan cocked his head, "C'mon Vince. I mean we were all subjected to hair inspections and foot and finger prints, but you were questioned more than anyone."

"That was only because I'd had a relationship with her; that always makes them suspicious," he smiled as he spoke the last phrase.

Price took over, "So, you're saying you didn't have _any_ animosity about that."

"Of course not, they were doing a job. I wanted them to find the killer."

"Why did you seek out the social worker in person instead of having the consult go through the usual channels?"

"It was just as I told her; the patient's boyfriend, who had medical power of attorney," he said with an inflection of emphasis, "asked me to transfer her off my service." He shifted in his seat, "How would any of you like me to transfer a case to you with this hanging over it, unresolved, how would _that_ look? I had to expedite things."

They all shook their heads, as Dr. Gardner produced one more document, "Vince, we have one more problem." He looked pensive, hoping for another smooth answer, as he continued, "The social worker who worked the case feels like you misrepresented that conversation with the boyfriend to her."

"Well, I didn't paint her a picture if that's what you mean." Another shift in the chair, "During the conversation; true, the investigation came up; I stated that I thought we should be professionals, he did his job, now let me do mine. But, he would have none of that. Despite the excellent clinical course of this patient, he demanded a transfer. That's what I communicated to the social worker. No clinical details; just that he demanded the transfer."

"Did the conversation get personal?" Price inquired.

"Yes, regretfully it did, but it was as much on him as it was me, and I didn't share that with Ms. Davies, I just told her he had grilled me." After a pause, "In fact, the conversation wouldn't have happened at all if it wasn't for him, he instigated it. My team can verify that fact."

"That's documented here," Gardner quickly added.

"You also got personal, even confrontational with some other visitors of hers," Price added, referring to his exchange with Catherine and Greg.

"Again, that exchange was initiated by them," Lurie calmly replied, "and I left the room just after it started."

Price shook his head, "You left because they demanded you leave."

"They did, but I was leaving either way. I had done what I was compelled to do; at that point it was completely up to the social worker."

Looking around the room, Gardner asked openly, "Anything else?"

The other committee members shook their heads, and Lurie stood to leave. "Thank you for providing that clarification," Gardner added as Lurie exited.

Once the door closed, "There's nothing here!" Gardner bellowed.

"Well, considering his past complaints of harassment; this is quite consistent with that pattern." Phillip Price stated in a most serious tone, "I think he was stalking his patient, and if she wasn't watched so closely, it would have certainly escalated."

"But, since he didn't really act on it; it's all speculation now, isn't it," James Bryan countered. "As far as his prior harassment complaints, they were all hospital employees, never patients. He straightened up his act in that department as far as I can tell."

"How many times have you gone to check on patients, on your own, after hours; without first trying the phone, or your residents? Come on, don't be fooled, he was stalking her then. Had she not had a visitor; tell me you think he wasn't going to her room?!"

"He never did go to her room alone, and he never even touched her. You can't ruin a man's career over what you _think_ he was thinking about doing!" Gardner shot back.

"And, I suppose you routinely walk consults down to social services in person?"

"The aversion to the boyfriend is logical given his concern for his patient, and evidently the boyfriend's confrontational attitude towards him." Randall Gardner added. "The social services involvement was a legal mandate." He now shrugged his shoulders, as if to say _'what else should he have done?'_

Phillip Price rolled his eyes, shook his head; the good old boys were going to find an out for their guy. They debated back and forth for the better part of the next hour. He was outvoted two to one. He knew the report, he had talked to people, but the slick spin Lurie had on it, coupled with his reputation as a surgeon, Price knew it was going away no matter what he said. The subcommittee report to the hospital executive committee would exonerate Vincent Lurie. They would have no choice but to reinstate his privileges. The Nevada medical examiners would likely follow the hospital's lead. He would be in the clear.

TBC….


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

Back at the lab, there was a huge pile of evidence to process. Nick and Warrick brought the load to trace and DNA; then retreated to the break room. "That EMT who checked out Grissom was pretty cute," Nick drawled. Warrick laughed and nodded as he poured a cup of bad coffee.

"Don't talk about that!" Grissom huffed as he came in the room. "Do you have any idea how horny I am?"

They looked at each other with total shock on their faces.

Grissom continued, "You can't believe how Sara can make a man…"

"Whoa boss," Warrick cut him off, "too much information."

Nick then asks, "You OK there, man?" just as Grissom was wavering as he tried to sit in a chair.

"I've got a killer headache," he said rubbing his temples, "and, I'm a bit unsteady."

Catherine caught the exchange, "Nick, why don't you go get Doc." She had heard about Grissom's head bump at the crack house. "Warrick, get Griss's file from Judy, we may be taking him to the hospital," she whispered in Warrick's ear to avoid upsetting Grissom.

"Gil, have you talked to Sara lately?" Catherine asked. No more treading lightly; it was time to find out the status of the relationship.

He looked at her strangely, "Well, yeah," shaking his head now, "we were all talking just a bit ago in the layout room, she's probably still there."

Her eyebrows shot up. Sara hadn't darkened the door of that layout room in over a month. Something was _really_ wrong. Just then Dr. Robbins walked in, "I was in the building, what's up?"

"Gil had a bump on his head earlier; no loss of consciousness or anything, but now he's acting a bit weird."

"I am?" Grissom looked up, confusion on his face.

He turned his stare on Grissom, "Flashlight?" The CSI's thrived on flashlights, but of all times, they were fumbling to find one. Dr. Robbins was putting Grissom through various maneuvers that should have been simple, not unlike a field sobriety test, but he was fumbling with a lot of it. Finally, a flashlight appeared. Robbins flashed it in each pupil and then moved it away just as quickly. The pupil on the injured side was larger and sluggish; it was a sign of serious consequences. "Call an ambulance! I need to speak to the accepting MD!"

"What's happening?" Catherine asked.

"He's exhibiting all the signs of an epidural hematoma. A hit on the temple, followed by a lucid interval of several hours, and now with mental status changes, motor difficulties, and a blown pupil on the side of the injury. He needs surgery, and fast."

The EMT's arrived quickly. Hank Pedigrew and his partner blew in the building. He took in the scene; the CSI's were gathered around their fallen mentor, and were not pleased to see him in attendance. He knew he was a persona non grata in these parts. "There's not another rig within miles of us; we need to take him," he explained, as he glanced around for Sara, wondering why she wasn't at his side. They couldn't argue with that; they all knew time was of the essence.

Grissom looked up at Hank, "I named my dog after you."

Hank's jaw dropped.

"Yeah, he's cute, but he's still a dog," he smirked, "fitting, don't you think."

"Don't try to talk Dr. Grissom." Hank turned crimson in embarrassment as he strapped Grissom onto the gurney. In the meantime, Robbins alerted the hospital to have a scanner open and a neurosurgeon ready. Grissom likely had an intracranial hemorrhage which carried a significant mortality. The next step was to find Sara.

"OK, let's look at his file," Catherine said as Warrick produced it, "Sara's still listed as the emergency contact." She shook her head, "I think this is her old cell number, and the address is his." She slammed the file shut in disgust. "That's just great!"

Catherine took charge nevertheless, "Warrick, take this file to the hospital, and try to get his cell phone. Take care of registering him, and for goodness sake, call us with any news." Warrick nodded and left.

"Nick, you think they were talking? Go get his phone records; we need a number we can call to get her."

Nick replied, "I'm on it!"

"Greg, you and me get to search the man's desk!"

Greg followed Catherine into Grissom's office. He felt oddly intrusive as he opened desk drawers and rummaged through them. This was Grissom's inner sanctum. Nobody snooped around this office. Looking past animal skulls and other weird items Grissom had collected, there was a discovery. There was a file, it was unnamed. Greg poured over the contents. It was a file containing brochures of wedding ceremonies in exotic places. Big Sur, Florida Keys, even Maui. "They were planning to marry," Greg pronounced, surprise in his voice.

"That's great, but we need to find her now," Catherine replied, worry and frustration in her voice. _Why do those two have to be so damn secretive!_

"Wait there's other stuff here," Greg sounded upbeat as he flipped through more items in the folder. "There's some numbers on some loose papers and a flier for Habitat for Humanity?" he questioned, wondering what that had to do with Sara.

Catherine looked up as Brass flew in the room, "Is it true, Grissom was taken to the hospital?"

"Yeah, Doc says it's serious, something about a 'blown pupil.' Anyway, now we're trying to locate Sara, she's still listed as his emergency contact. Do you know anything about where she might be?"

"Ah, well, I know he mentioned she went to see her mother, maybe she's still there."

Greg beamed, "A Laura Sidle perhaps?" as he held up a post-it note with that name and a phone number.

Catherine grinned, "Brass, why don't you make the call, you're great at that sort of thing."

Not sure what she meant by that, but not wanting to waste any time either; Brass whipped out his cell phone and began to dial the number.

"Hello," a soft spoken woman's voice answered.

"Hello, this is Jim Brass with the Las Vegas Police, is this Laura Sidle?"

"Why, yes, it is," came the worried reply.

"I don't mean to alarm you, but I'm trying to find someone, Sara Sidle."

"She's my daughter, but she's not here right now. Is she in some kind of trouble?"

"No, no, nothing like that. A friend of hers in Las Vegas is very, well, um," fumbling for words, not sure how much to divulge, "He needs to see her, so I'm trying to locate her for him. We all used to work together." He shrugged at Catherine and Greg, "Do you have her cell phone number by chance?"

"I'm sorry; she got a new one, but never gave me the number." She paused, "You see, we were estranged for some time, and I can't say we've completely reconnected," she offered as an explanation for how it is a mother doesn't know how to reach her daughter.

"Well, then, do you know _where_ she is."

"Sort of. You see, I went away for a while," she cleared her throat, "and while I was away, well I guess you could say I found religion. Sara's not much of a church-goer, but she came with me one time, and there happened to be a group there talking about going down to the gulf coast to help rebuild the hurricane damage. This one charity organization in particular guts flooded houses for the elderly. They've gone every year, evidently there's still plenty to do down there. Anyway, she got all excited about it, says she can rip out walls with the best of 'em. I can't see those skinny arms wielding a sledge hammer and pulling down sheet rock. Do you think she can really do that?"

"I've actually seen her rip out a few walls, maam." Catherine and Greg looked puzzled hearing only his side of the conversation.

"Wow, so she wasn't kidding," Laura Sidle wondered.

"So that's where she is, off with the church group?" Now they were in total shock to hear this. _Sara with a church group?_

"Well, not really. They came back a week ago. Sara called to say she found the work extremely satisfying, even called it 'therapy', so she stayed on there. I think instead of gutting, she's now finishing some houses for some needy people. She just went on and on about it. It must be good for her right now."

"So basically what you're saying is she's somewhere on the gulf coast, but you don't know where she's staying or how to reach her."

"I guess so." She softly lamented, "I'm sorry."

"Well, if she checks in with you, please give her a message to call me." Laura Sidle took down the information, and ended the call.

"What was all that about?!" Catherine was dying to know.

"Sara's gone to the gulf coast to rebuild hurricane Katrina damage, but her mom doesn't know any more than that. Basically, a dead end."

"Well, that one sure came out of left field!" Catherine quipped.

"What about this number," Greg held up another piece of paper with a phone number on it, but no name.

"Let's give it a try," Brass said as he dialed the number. "Sorry, wrong number," he spoke into the receiver, "It's a jewelry store." He shrugged.

"Goes along with the wedding brochures," Greg threw in as Brass's eyebrows went up.

"Greg, what did you say about a Habitat for Humanity flier?" Catherine asked.

"Oh, yea, right here," he handed the flier to Brass, who started dialing.

"Habitat of New Orleans," was the greeting.

Brass smiled in anticipation, "Hello, I'm trying to locate someone who may be down there doing some work with you, a Sara Sidle?"

"Let me check on that, all of our volunteers register, just give me a sec," after a pause he returned, "Yes, she was here for about a week, but it looks like she last worked yesterday, and someone here said she left the area. So I don't think I can help you."

Brass still left his contact information just in case she returned. "Another dead end," he declared.

"Let's go to his house, there's got to be something there to tell us where she is," Catherine reasoned, grabbing his keys from the top drawer of the desk.

TBC….


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

Back at the hospital, Grissom was rushed straight to the ER, quickly evaluated, placed on a monitor, and sent to the CT scanner straight away. Ms. Bursen instantly recognized him, and got him off to radiology as fast as humanly possible. She then went to the waiting room to look for Sara. Not finding her, she asked of the crowd, "Anyone here with Gil Grissom?"

Warrick immediately rose to his feet, "I am."

"Can you help me get him registered?"

"Yes, maam, I'm ready with his information," he said holding up the file.

"Where is the woman he was seeing, Sara was it? I remember her so well, that awful ordeal she went through." She looked hopeful, "He was obviously so devoted to her."

"We're trying to locate her now; she was out of town," he replied rather matter of factly. "Since you mentioned it; I would like his cell phone and wallet if I could, it might help me contact her."

"Sure come on back here, I'll give you all his things. You'll need to sign a form first though."

Warrick patiently filled out the paperwork he was given, anxiously awaiting word on Grissom's condition. When he was finally given the cell phone, he flipped it open to find the battery was totally dead, "Damn!" He thumbed through the wallet, but finding no phone numbers or any other information, he threw it down in disgust.

Meanwhile, Grissom was becoming severely disoriented. The pain from his head was making him miserable. It was different from his usual headache pain, and it scared him. The techs were trying to position him on the gantry of the CT scanner, but he couldn't seem to keep still. He kept trying to move to get comfortable, but nothing was working. The neurosurgeon arrived to see the scan, only to learn they hadn't even started the run.

Dr. Walt Kramer was known for his surgery skills, but definitely not his patience, "You've got to be kidding!"

"We know how you want to avoid sedation to better evaluate him, but he's really having a lot of trouble lying still. Do you think we could give him something?" the tech asked.

Kramer looked upon the restless patient, "No, sedation is not an option. It might just tip him over the edge; his mental status is precarious as it is. We need to get him to cooperate."

Kramer went about briefly examining Grissom, and could tell that not only was he was not completely in control of himself; his exam had deteriorated in the short time since he was seen in the ER. He proceeded to place Grissom's head in a padded, contoured holder, and then generously taped over his forehead and chin to secure him to it. He latched the head rest to the gantry, as he explained to Grissom everything that was happening. "Hurry and start!" he directed the tech. The scan commenced, and Dr. Kramer talked to him through the whole process in the most reassuring tone he could muster, partly from compassion, but mostly from trying to get the scan done as efficaciously as possible. When it was promptly completed; Grissom was immediately freed of the restraints.

"What's going on?" Grissom slurred, rubbing his head.

Kramer didn't wait around to reply, he was viewing the scans on the computer monitor in the control room. Just as expected a large collection of blood had formed inside the left side of his skull, displacing his brain and wreaking havoc in the cramped space. Kramer wasted no time, "Diane, Dr. Kramer here, I'm bringing a patient straight to the operating room, notify the anesthesia service, and start setting up for a craniotomy to drain a hematoma." The nurse had been tipped off by Ms. Bursen in the ER that this call might be coming, and they were well on the way to being ready.

Just then Grissom began to throw up, another sign of growing pressure in his head. He was turned on his side, and placed back on the stretcher, noticeably drowsier. Kramer pointed to one of the techs, "You're coming with me, help me get this guy to surgery." He directed the other tech to notify the ER, and send any family waiting there to the OR waiting area to give consent.

Ms. Bursen got the call and immediately sent Warrick up to the surgery waiting room. She was clearly disappointed that he hadn't spoken to Sara. He called Catherine en route, "Cath, no luck with the cell phone, it's dead, and the wallet didn't have anything helpful."

"We're not having any luck over here either, but we're finding out some interesting stuff about Sara."

"Tell me later, they're taking him to surgery right now, and they want somebody to give consent."

"What can I say, Warrick, we don't even have a phone number. Maybe Nick will come through, but I doubt it will be in time for that consent."

"I'll call back after I see the doctor. If you run across his phone charger, try to get it to me."

Warrick was standing in the OR waiting room with assorted other people, all showing varying degrees of anxiety, when a nurse appeared at the doorway. "Family of Gilbert Grissom?"

She did a double take as Warrick stepped forward, "I'm a coworker of his; he has no family here."

"Well, come with me then."

They walked into a holding area where Grissom lay on a stretcher, much less restless, in fact, eerily calm. A man in scrubs was working on his arm, starting another IV. "Hi, there, Dr. Johnson, anesthesiologist," he spoke to Warrick as he stepped up.

"Pleased to meet you, take good care of this man here."

"You bet," then raising his voice in Grissom's direction, "stick and a sting here Mr. Grissom, a numbing shot so you don't feel this line go in," he explained.

"Hey, Griss," Gil raised his eyebrows, and his lids lazily followed. "He's talkin' to you. Don't you be giving them trouble in here." Warrick tried to joke with him.

"Walrids," Grissom mumbled, "where's Sar?"

"We're trying to find her for you, man," he paused, "Do you know where to reach her?"

"I dunno, ith feels like sheez gone," he speech was garbled, and he was obviously confused. "I'm scared. I don't know what's happning," he mumbled.

"Don't fret, you're obviously in good hands, just let them take care of you," he tried not to let his worry show in his voice. It was nothing short of terrifying to hear this rock of a man admit fear, and to see this brilliant mind so confused.

Just then Dr. Kramer walked up, "Hi there Jack," he spoke to the anesthesiologist as he extended his hand to Warrick. "Walt Kramer, I'm a neurosurgeon, and it appears you met Dr. Johnson here, our anesthesiologist." Warrick nodded, "We need to open him up to remove the blood and clot in his skull. It's expanding which is why his mental status is continuing to deteriorate. Time is of the essence. What is your relationship to him?"

"Oh, um, I'm a coworker. He has no family here, but his girlfriend has his medical power of attorney. Unfortunately, she's out of town, and we've not been able to reach her yet."

"I see." He nodded, "No problem. We have a procedure to follow when there is no one we can obtain consent from. I think you've established for us that is clearly the case, and this is a life threatening emergency. Two other doctors will sign the consent, and we'll get going. Jack, you about ready?"

"Yep, just putting in the arterial line now, Another stick and sting, sir, I need to put a catheter into your pulse here in your wrist," he explained. Warrick noticed that Grissom had dozed off again, and didn't react in the slightest to the painful stick in his wrist.

TBC...

A/N: Well, it's getting a little dicey, but hang in there. Life is trying to get in the way of my writing! This chapter was short; I know. I will _try_ to post tomorrow, but if not, very soon. (Reviews may bring out the guilt and get it done faster...:)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

Warrick was escorted back to the waiting room to begin the agonizing duty of waiting for word. He checked in with Catherine, and reported the situation. She could hear the heaviness in his voice; it was all she could do to keep fear and panic at bay herself.

When she, Greg, and Brass arrived at Grissom's townhouse, it took a while to finally get the right key so they could even get inside. As they entered, they were taken aback. Several lights were on, and music was playing over the stereo.

"Did he come home after he hit his head?" Brass asked.

"No way, he was at the lab the whole time," Greg stated.

"Well, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't leave his house like this," he said drawing his gun.

The CSI's followed Brass into the townhouse.

"I think that's Maroon 5 on the stereo," Greg whispered.

Catherine and Brass grimaced at Greg, as if to say 'and your point is?'

"I just mean," Greg looked down at his feet, "I'm pretty sure this is _not_ Grissom's music."

They continued to tip toe into the townhouse.

"Is that the shower?" Catherine wondered out loud.

"I think it is." Brass answered, confused as ever.

They entered the bedroom to find a suitcase opened on the bed with some clothes scattered about the room, obviously female. Greg picked up a stray tie dyed top and breathed in the scent of it, "Sara," he murmured, eyes shut.

"She's _here!?"_ Catherine exclaimed. They were all stunned, unable to fathom that she was actually there. Just then the water went off. They looked at each other, not sure what to do. Before they could react, the door opened, and a nude Sara ambled out, covered somewhat with a towel as she ran another one over her wet hair. She looked up to see them there in the bedroom, and nearly jumped right out of her skin.

"Oh my gosh!" she yelled, "You all scared me half to death!" she declared as she nervously pulled the towel around her naked body. "Do you mind?" she looked to the door, "please?"

An awkward a moment as there ever was, the trio picked their jaws off the ground and filed out of the bedroom, mumbling apologies, and closing the door behind them. "We come looking for a phone number, and Voila', we have the genuine article!" Greg was fist pumping, grinning from ear to ear having seen Sara. Not because she was in a state of undress that is, although that was an _amazing_ surprise, but because he had missed her friendship _so_ much.

"I must admit, the last thing I was expecting to find here was _her_," Catherine agreed.

They waited anxiously for just a few minutes. Sara walked out of the bedroom in jeans and a tee shirt; going straight over to the stereo to turn off the music. "Don't take this the wrong way," she looked back at them, "but what are you guys doing here?"

They all glanced at each other. Catherine knew right away that this was not going to be a fuzzy little reunion. Whatever the demons were that drove Sara out of her own life, appeared to still be haunting her. Also, given how incredibly private Sara was; whatever was causing her pain was not something she would share with anyone except Grissom. There was a definite reason none of them knew she was even there; _she clearly wasn't ready for this encounter with them_.

Greg didn't see any of that, or if he did, he didn't care; he bounded over to Sara like a puppy, delivering a long overdue bear hug. She stiffened at first, but moments later warmed to her friend's embrace. She even misted up, nodding at his goofy grin since words had left her, and she was too choked up to speak. Catherine then stepped up, got in a quick hug, and passed her off to Brass.

Brass pulled her into a fatherly embrace, finally releasing, staring at her like she was the prodigal CSI just returned. He started in, "We'll get to why we're here, honey, ah, but first of all, how are _you_ doing?"

"Well, I'm better than when I left, that's for sure. But, I'm not even close to where I need to be." She at least looked better, tanned, fit, and even rested. "I just missed Gil so much I couldn't breathe; I had to come see him."

"I understand you were in New Orleans, how was that?" Brass attempted some chit chat, stalling, truly afraid of how she would handle the news they brought.

"Grissom told you about that?!"

"No," Brass replied sheepishly, "I spoke to your mother."

"Ya did?!" She was looking at them sideways, "OK, what's going on here?"

Catherine nodded and took over, "I know this looks weird, but the truth is Grissom had an accident."

"What?!" Sara's face was contorted in fear, "What kind of accident, how is he?"

"He hit his head at a crime scene, and then, later, started acting a bit bizarre. He was taken to the hospital, and he's in surgery right now for a blood clot in his head."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she eased into a nearby chair, head in her hands, her mouth opened in shock, breathing deeply, just trying to process the news.

Catherine continued, "We've been frantically trying to find out how to reach you. In fact, that's why we're here; looking for your phone number, or anything else to help find you. When did you come back anyway?"

Sara looked up, "I just got in, I've been trying to call Gil to tell him I made it, but he never picked up his phone. Now I know why," her voice trailed off.

Dying to know more, specifically _Is she back for good? _Catherine observed Sara looking rather frail emotionally and reluctantly decided to back off.

Brass offered, "Why not dry your hair, pack a little bag for Gil, and we'll take you to the hospital."

She silently nodded, and returned to the bedroom.

TBC…

A/N: Thank you to all reviewing, and thanks to all for your patience on this chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

By the time Grissom rolled into the operating room he was nearly unresponsive. The anesthesiologist injected multiple medications into the IV drip as he was forcing oxygen into his lungs with a mask. He then placed a breathing tube and connected him to a ventilator. Various drugs and maneuvers were started to try to relieve the pressure in his head, and he was responding perfectly.

Dr. Kramer began shaving part of his curly locks to allow access to the area over the clot. Once the area was prepped, drapes were placed, and the surgery commenced. Johnson communicated Grissom's status to Kramer at frequent intervals, and the surgery went like clockwork. A lot of blood and clot were removed, and the area was watched for active bleeding. When he was satisfied it would stay dry, Kramer closed up the wound, and they discussed plans for his post-operative care. "Do you think you can leave him on the ventilator overnight?" Kramer asked. "His brain was pretty swollen; I think he could use more time to recover."

"Sure, I think that's best given that Pentothal dose I gave him up front, you got it," Johnson replied. The plan was to let Grissom stay asleep after surgery. A machine would breathe for him during that time. The medicine he was given to put him to sleep was protective of the brain, but wasn't conducive for a fast wake up. Also, from being pushed on so hard, his brain was a little swollen; this would give it time to come back to normal. Trying to make him wake up fully and breathe on his own, might have been pushing it. Calls were made to the ICU to prepare what Grissom would need on arrival. The dressing was applied, and the transfer process was started. Dr. Johnson supervised the move, and ensured that Grissom was closely watched throughout the transfer right through getting him settled in the ICU.

Dr. Kramer went to the surgery waiting room to report to Warrick. Instead he found the group rallying around Sara. "Family of Gilbert Grissom?" he asked.

Sara stepped forward, "That would be me."

Debbie Marlin had worked the neurosurgical floor. Sara's appearance caused him to catch his breath, she looked so familiar. He held out his hand, "Dr. Walt Kramer," he introduced himself, and then continued, "Do I know you?"

"I don't think so," Sara replied quickly, guessing he saw the former nurse's resemblance, but truly wishing to avoid that subject. "Sara Sidle, I'm with Gil Grissom."

He shrugged, and shook his head before going on, "The surgery on Mr. Grissom went beautifully. We couldn't ask for a better result."

Sara relaxed, and then smiled her biggest Sara grin, "Thank you, so much, doctor."

"He is being moved to the ICU as we speak. You can visit him in there, but I have to warn you, he won't respond. That's OK; it's what we planned for him. He's going to be sedated overnight, and we'll let him wake up in the morning. I'm sure he'll be one hundred percent when he does wake up," he stated with conviction.

Sara just nodded; she was starting to get choked up with emotion.

"There is a waiting room for the surgical ICU on the 10th floor. You need to be there in order to see him."

"We'll get her there," Warrick spoke up, smiling.

Kramer nodded, smiled in return, and left them.

Sara was now spilling tears in relief; hugs were going around the group. Everyone was breathing easier. Warrick, especially, was feeling relief. He had been the lone man on watch in the waiting room, a very lonely job.

A while back, when Brass, Catherine, and Greg waltzed in with Sara in tow, he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Sara!" he screamed as he swallowed her up in a huge bear hug. "God, it's good to see your face."

She cocked her head and pursed her lips, "Yeah, but not the way I wanted to reconnect."

She looked around at the others, "With any of you." She sucked in a deep breath, "I'm really not ready to talk about the reasons I left, but I will say this, I'm better, and it was just something I had to do. It wasn't about Gil and me, it was just about me." Greg grabbed her up in a tight embrace; he was so relieved to know Grissom hadn't done anything to cause her to leave. He even got choked up, causing Sara to start up as well.

"We're pretty sad," Greg admitted. Sara nodded and grinned. The others laughed.

"Where's Nick," Sara asked.

"Oh, no," Catherine gasped, "We forgot to tell Nick!"

"He's still trying to get Grissom's phone records to get your number," Greg explained with a chuckle.

"Who wants to call him?" Catherine asked the group.

No takers on that job, so Catherine dialed his cell, "Hey there, Nick."

"Cath! You won't believe this," he began to explain, the excitement pouring through the phone, "I found a number with a San Francisco area code that Grissom calls _religiously_. He calls it right after the start of shift, and again at the end. The calls last anywhere from ten to twenty minutes. It's _got _to be Sara! I told ya'll they were talkin'! Hee, hee! I'm calling it now…"

Catherine just laughed, and laughed harder when Sara reached into her pocket for her phone that was ringing.

TBC….

A/N: Enjoy the fuzzy stuff, because next chapter... Dr. 'you know who' shows up!


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do now own CSI**

The Desert Palms Surgical Intensive Care Unit was one busy place. There were twelve beds, and they stayed full. The ICU was laid out in two rows of beds, one through six along the wall on the right, and seven through twelve directly across along the left. The rooms had large doors made of glass, so they could be closed off for quiet, but the patients were always being observed. Toward the front of the unit was an open area where the nurses' station was located. Toward the back was a conference room off on the left, and on the right was a locked storeroom, and behind that a linen closet. The nurses' station held a bank of monitors that displayed the vital signs and EKG of each patient in real time. From that spot, a nurse could also see directly into eight of the twelve rooms directly. The rooms at the ends of the corridors, that is, five through seven, were obscured from view. Those rooms had ceiling mounted video cameras so that the nurse at the monitors could still view the patients.

Grissom had been admitted to the second bed, directly in front of the nurses' station, and was doing fine. There was a dicey situation back in bed six, however. A multiple trauma patient in a motorcycle accident was requiring a lot of care. His attending physician was none other than Vincent Lurie. Lurie was paged once again for the patient, and he decided he needed to come check things out himself. On his way into the unit he glanced into the waiting room, and was frozen in his tracks. Sara Sidle now had no abrasions on her face, straight hair, and looked even more like Debbie Marlin, if that was at all possible. He had to force himself to break off his stare; after all, he had just nearly lost his medical license with his obsession of her. He continued into the ICU, and glanced up at the board with the patient names, nurse, and doctor assignments. He noticed Grissom in room two. _Well, that explains her presence here. _

He started to evaluate his patient in six, but couldn't resist coming out to the nurses' station to sneak a peak at Grissom's chart. He was consumed with Grissom's incapacitation and his potential power over that. This man tried to ruin his life twice already; he spent weeks seething in his house on suspension, rage building towards this one man. Throw in seeing Sara; a living, breathing version of his Debbie, pining for Grissom from the waiting room. That thought made him even more vengeful.

Glancing over at the nurses, he noticed they were all in the conference room. One shift was giving a report on all the patients to the next shift. One lone nurse was left out watching the monitors intently. He wandered unnoticed in the direction of his patient in room six, but instead ducked around to the work room containing the medicine cart and supplies. The room was locked with a combination entry system, but everyone knew the code, one, two, three; it was kept simple on purpose. Lurie whipped on a latex glove, punched in the code, and entered the room.

Once inside he was pacing, pulling at his hair; trying to decide what he wanted to do. Feelings of uncontrollable rage were consuming him. It was the same power that engulfed him when he went to see Debbie and found her getting ready for a date with someone else. He exploded in a murderous tirade, and with his cold, calculating execution of the crime, he got away with it. Now, his mind was calculating how to exploit this situation. That's when it hit him. He went to the medicine cart, and accessed Grissom's medications for the next shift. He smiled when he saw the tiny bag of IV fluid containing an antibiotic. The label read that the bag of Ancef was due to go up at nine o'clock. Scanning the room, his eyes landed on what he sought out, potassium chloride vials. He drew up the potassium in a syringe and injected it into Grissom's antibiotic solution. Gil Grissom would die some time after nine o'clock when the medicine would be administered by his nurse. Lurie pocketed the empty potassium vials, the syringe, and the needle he used to inject it. He then grabbed up materials he used on bed six's wounds so if anyone asked, he had a reason to be in the supply room. He left the room, and then removed and pocketed the latex gloves. He would later dispose of all the evidence in a remote place where it would never be found.

The man who tried to put him in prison, who had a woman he coveted, who tried to get his medical license revoked, was in the palm of his hand. He couldn't help but grin as he worked on his patient in room six, stabilizing him. He left the unit to rejoin his team on rounds, but he planned to be back in room six when Grissom would start his turn for the worse.

Finally, the nurses finished their report, checked their patients, and prepared for visiting time. Sara was allowed to come in to see Gil. He was completely unresponsive, and so many tubes and such. She desperately wanted to run her fingers through his curly hair, but it was covered in a turban like dressing. Instead, she reached up to stroke his massive forearm which lay limp by his side; no response. She slid her hand down in his, waiting for that familiar squeeze, but again, no response. She knew there would be none, but the reality of it was a shot in the gut leaving her barely able to breathe. It's not like she was on firm ground emotionally, and this was more than she wanted to try to handle. She was loosing her composure, and began to softly sob at his side while she held tightly his hand. She closed her eyes, lulled by the sound of the reassuring blip of the monitor, and the regular whisper that came from the ventilator forcing Gil's chest to rise and fall in the vital act of breathing.

Just then the nurse came in, "Hi, I'm Martha Roberts, and I'll be his nurse for tonight." Martha was a young woman, very upbeat and perky, and was an experienced, and quite skilled, ICU nurse. She had worked in that ICU for several years, and she had seen an awful lot over that time.

Sara tried to collect herself, wiping her cheeks, "Sara," she managed, "So, um, how is he doing."

"Actually, he's doing great, really. I know it doesn't look like it with all this stuff we have him hooked to, and the sedation doesn't allow him to respond, but he is doing great. I promise." After adjusting a few lines, and checking the monitors, she added, "I hope you don't mind me saying so, but you look so much like a nurse who used to work here."

Sara pursed her lips, "So I've been told."

"Really, it's amazing."

"Debbie Marlin?"

Martha looked surprised, "Yes! Are you related to her?"

"No," she laughed a little at the question, "We're crime scene investigators and we worked that case. I was peripherally involved, but I did see her. Gil was the lead investigator."

"Ya'll never got the guy, did ya."

"No, sadly we didn't have enough to charge anyone."

"Wow, scary to think he's still out there," she remarked as she hung the small IV bag containing Grissom's nine o'clock dose of tainted antibiotic. She spiked the bag, and ran the tubing through a pump set to deliver the dose over thirty minutes. She would come back and start it at nine precisely.

"Yes, it is," Sara agreed, her thoughts wandering to Vincent Lurie, relieved he wasn't assigned to Grissom.

TBC….


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

When the visiting hour was over, Sara returned to the waiting room to find everyone still there. Nick had joined them, and grabbed her up in a huge hug. The emotion of seeing Grissom in that condition coupled with seeing her friend brought more tears. Nick just held on until she cried it out. "You can't believe what he looks like," she sobbed. "He's just laying there, no response at all, it's so frightening."

"Now Sara, you heard the doctor, that's what they want for him right now."

"It's just so hard to see him like that. And all that stuff attached to him, it's scary."

"Well, now you two are even, because you scared the piss out of all of us when we found you in the desert, you were unresponsive, too," he said smiling, but realized maybe he shouldn't have brought that up. That was confirmed when he saw the looks on the other's faces.

"I'm sorry, Sara, I shouldn't have…."

"Don't worry Nick; I know what you're trying to say," she smiled, "It's OK."

"So, you just happened to come back to Vegas for a visit when all this happened?" Nick had to ask.

"Yes," she shrugged, "but, not the visit I had in mind."

"Well, so this is your first time back?" he continued.

"No, I came a couple of weeks ago, I had to see Gil."

He nodded, looking a bit hurt that she hadn't wanted to see the rest of them, but didn't press the issue. It was time for them to get ready for work; Greg elected to stay with Sara. It would be a long night of waiting.

Shortly after they were gone, at precisely 9:05 PM, Vincent Lurie and his team walked past Sara and Greg into the ICU. Greg straightened up. "Don't worry, Greg," Sara reassured him, "Lurie's got a real sick one in there, so they tell me, he's been going in a lot," she smiled at him, recalling Greg standing tall to Lurie, throwing him out of her hospital room.

Not long after that, around 9:20, a page over the hospital PA system, "Code Blue, SICU." Sara's heartbeat quickened.

"Sara, there's a lot of people in there, sicker than Griss, no way it's him."

The next page, "Dr. Kramer, SICU, stat." Now, she was really frightened.

"That's his doctor!" she was trying to hold it together, but she could feel herself hyperventilating.

Meanwhile, inside the ICU, Martha had noticed the start of some irregular heart beats. She put in a routine call to Kramer, but hadn't heard back when all of a sudden, the heart beat changed into a more ominous rhythm. She ran in to assess him, but could find nothing wrong, nothing to explain it. She immediately called a code sensing that a cardiac arrest was immanent, and put in a stat page for Kramer.

Vincent Lurie was at the bedside in six. One of the nurses asked him to step into two, something was happening and nobody knew what. "He's a patient of Dr. Kramer's, but can you look in on him until Kramer arrives, he looks like he might arrest."

In his outwardly calm manner, he politely obliged, and entered the room. Staring down at Grissom, he realized that he alone had ultimate power over the man. Much has been written throughout history about what power does to men. Lurie was drawn to it obsessively. He knew he could save Grissom, or watch him die; not unlike a Roman emperor, thumbs up or thumbs down. His goal hadn't just been to murder the man, but to be in control of him. He played along, "What's his history?" Martha recited the injury, the surgery, and the current status. He wasn't listening. He already knew it. He was only sorry Grissom wasn't alert enough to see the control he was under.

Martha called out, "Would somebody please get the code cart and defibrillator in here." She was terrified. She knew how to handle emergencies, but what was scaring her was the fact that she knew they were missing something. It just wasn't adding up. She thrust strips of EKG's in front of Lurie. "Here is his normal tracing, then he started to do this," she said holding another strip with just a few abnormal beats, "now," she put down a strip of the current rhythm, "it's V-Tach." Ventricular tachycardia is a rhythm where each beat widens and occurs faster, sometimes to the point where the blood pressure drops severely or even goes away, in that case it's fatal. The problem is the causes are innumerable, but finding the reason for the rhythm can be even more important than just fixing the rhythm. "Should we get ready to shock him, Doctor?"

"Yes, get the pads on him." he replied. That's when he figured it all out. His hand was being forced. The way Martha had recorded the EKG strips, the diagnosis was obvious in the early strips. He might fall under suspicion if he didn't act. At that moment he knew he would have to go about saving him. Besides, he also knew Walt Kramer was still at the hospital; he would probably make it in time to save Grissom himself. If he would live anyway, then Lurie wanted the credit for it, the glory of it. He would save him, and hold that over him from then on. The doctor in him took over; he glanced over the EKG strip one more time, and then shouted out "calcium one gram, IV push, stat!"

A nurse immediately pulled a box of calcium out of the code cart, assembled the syringe in a flash, and passed it to Martha who injected it, followed by a saline bolus for an immediate effect.

"Now an amp of Bicarb, and get an amp of D 50 ready, draw up ten units of regular insulin!" Lurie continued to bark our orders, as the nurses responded with lightening efficiency. "Put the defibrillator on stand by, get ready to do chest compressions!" At the rate his blood pressure was falling, Lurie knew if the first round of drugs didn't do it, they would need to start performing CPR and shock him, so he got everyone ready to do just that.

Just then Kramer blew in, seeing a nurse readying the glucose injection of D 50, "You can't give my head patient glucose!" he countered, slightly winded after having jogged to get there.

"Are the calcium and Bicarb in yet?!" Lurie continued, "Walt, you make the final call, but look at those complexes on this early strip, they are classic for high levels of potassium." Then to Martha, "Send blood for electrolytes, glucose, and send some gases while you're at it."

She replied, "I sent off everything the second this started."

"But, Vince, this guy has no reason to have an elevated potassium level, it has to be something else," he said, confusion on his face, as he was frantically examining Grissom, looking for something else amiss, but not finding anything, he was at a loss to explain recent events any other way.

"That may be, but he's responding," Lurie remarked, smiling, smirking almost. Gesturing at the monitor, "I don't think we'll be pushing on his chest today."

Sure enough, the emergency treatment for an elevated potassium level was calcium and sodium bicarbonate intravenously, followed by glucose and insulin; the heart beats were returning to normal, the blood pressure was coming up, everything was improving. The strip Martha had printed up at the start of the trouble had very subtle changes, but nevertheless displayed tell tale signs that the potassium was rising. "I'll leave you to it, Walt; you can figure out why it's up!" he laughed as he walked out. "Holler if you need a hand, I've got my hands full with this guy over here," and he wandered back toward bed six. Feeling rather God-like, he was trying to picture Grissom and Sara hearing how he had saved Gil's life.

Kramer blew out, "Thanks," in the direction of Lurie. He was fully focused on his patient; already processing the situation, deciding the best course of action to take next. "I need those electrolyte levels yesterday, somebody make sure they are getting a priority down in the lab!" he yelled. Next he turned to Martha, "Talk to me Martha, what happened here," his eyebrows rose.

Martha was very precise in her retelling of the sequence of events. The strips she printed and timed really told the story; the potassium must have risen quickly. You could see the effect more with each strip. They both wondered about the antibiotic. Everything started when the bag was a little over halfway in, and then turned really bad fairly quickly after that. "Well, stop the damn thing then," Kramer said in frustration.

"It's already all in," Martha shrugged.

"It's hard not to wonder about that. Do you think the pharmacy made an error mixing it up?"

"I guess anything is possible. The only other thing that went into the IV was a dose of morphine and ativan for sedation, but those were given earlier, and I drew them up myself, straight out of the vials. Of course, his maintenance fluids have been running continuously."

"I think that's going in way too slow to explain the changes we've got on these strips," he remarked, scratching his head. "OK, well change that bag anyway just to be safe, and I'll give you further orders once I see the actual potassium level. Let's get some other tests," he said as he scribbled orders to check conditions which could explain the potassium, unlikely as they were. "I'll be in the waiting room _trying_ to explain this to his girlfriend." He started out, and then abruptly turned around, "Have you seen her by the way?"

Martha knew exactly what he meant by that, "Yes, a little spooky the resemblance."

"No kidding!" he was shaking his head as he walked out. He had finally figured out that Sara's familiarity was her striking resemblance to Debbie Marlin.

TBC…


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

Sara was wordlessly pacing the length of the waiting room; inside her head she was doing times tables trying to keep from thinking about what might be happening in the ICU. Kramer entered the waiting room, with a reassuring nod, hands in the 'calm down' mode, "He scared us all, but he's responded to treatment, and now he seems to be fine," he shrugged.

"What happened?" Sara's mouth was so dry with fear; she could scarcely get the words out.

"I have to admit, in total honesty, I don't know." He was shaking his head, "One minute he is cruising along, the next minute he's about to arrest. We think his potassium level was elevated, but I have no explanation for why that occurred."

Sara and Greg exchanged glances. She needed to ask, but knew how awful it would sound. Greg raised his eyebrows and nodded ever so slightly; a sign he was thinking the same thing. She took in a deep breath and braved the question, "Doctor, is it possible that someone deliberately administered the potassium?" Sara inquired, worried about Lurie's presence in the ICU.

Dr. Kramer looked at her quizzically, "But, that would be like," he searched for the right words, "like trying to kill somebody on purpose." He said it in such a way; it was obvious he couldn't conceive of anyone capable of such evil.

Greg offered by way of an explanation, "Doctor, we're crime scene investigators, we see people murdered everyday, it's not like it's uncommon."

He still looked confused, shocked actually, "I'm not really able to wrap my head around that; I'm more concerned about a drug error, or something I've missed clinically." He was really wondering about Sara now; that was the most paranoid thought he'd heard in a long time.

Sara looked down, trying to decide how to proceed, but there was something she _had _to know. She couldn't worry about what this doctor thought of her, she had to look out for Gil. She went on and asked, "Dr. Kramer, was Vincent Lurie in Gil's room at any time?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, he was at the bedside when I arrived." Looking very confused at this point, "Why in the world would you ask such a thing?"

With that information, she covered her mouth, thinking the worst. Her knees were beginning to wobble, and she knew she had to sit down quickly. Greg helped her into a chair, and then continued for her, "He and Grissom," he shrugged, "let's just say they're paths have crossed before, they've had some adversarial dealings."

"But, what you're insinuating, I mean, I really can't see it. Besides, the nurses told me he was in another room, but _they_ asked him to help them out until I arrived. Then he made the diagnosis very quickly, and with something like this, every second counts. I mean this; he saved his life. I'm not sure I would have made it up there in time to save him." He thought about that for a second. Kramer had arrived in time, barely, but would he have picked up on the potassium? _I mean potassium wasn't even on my radar screen; there's just no reason for it._ That's when the light bulb went on. Now it was Kramer who was pacing, rubbing his temples in thought. _Did Lurie know the diagnosis so quickly because he caused the situation? No, way, don't think like that, it's crazy! _Kramer didn't want to think about that possibility, but sought more information, nevertheless.

"What exactly were those past dealings you mentioned?" he asked taking a seat next to Sara.

Sara took in a deep breath, "Did you know Debbie Marlin and Michael Clark?"

"Why yes, tragic. You look exactly like her, by the way."

"So I've been told," Sara rolled her eyes, "I can't discuss details of investigations, but I can tell you that Gil Grissom was the lead investigator on that case."

"I think I see where you're going with this. Some surgeons were under more suspicion than others."

"This is very true. And, you know, a very brilliant double murderer is still at large."

Kramer took in a deep breath. He could read between the lines. He understood they believe Lurie killed Debbie and Michael, so it's not that big a stretch to think he tried to kill someone else. Even with this information, he struggled mightily to comprehend a collegue committing such violent, vengeful acts.

"That's not all," Sara paused, "I was admitted to the hospital a few months ago, and he was assigned to me. Let's just say he was quite inappropriate to me and to Gil, and a social worker, Marion Davies, filed a complaint to the ethics committee over it. I'm pretty sure he lost his privileges as a result, but has since been reinstated. He may hold Gil responsible for that as well."

"Well, this is a first for me, but I'll try to keep that in mind. My first priority; however, is to rule out clinical conditions that may have caused this. They're rare, but possible all the same. I also plan to speak to the pharmacy to see if it's possible the potassium was added to some other medicine by mistake. He had just received a small IV bag containing an antibiotic when this all started."

"Dr. Kramer, you're not used to thinking about these things the way we are. Please, promise me," she stared intently, pleading with her deep brown eyes, "if things don't add up for you, come talk it through with me."

He looked at her, not sure what to think, "OK, I can promise you that."

She smiled, "One more thing."

His eyebrows raised, "Yes?"

"I know it's not visiting hours, but under the circumstances, I would really like to see Gil," her expression begging.

"I'll speak to his nurse, you know they _really_ run the place," he said smiling, "I'm sure she'll be OK with that."

"Thank you."

He nodded, and returned to the ICU. Martha was at the bedside with the lab results. Kramer stared down at the lab report; the potassium was indeed abnormally high, confirming the provisional diagnosis. He wrote orders to continue treating the elevated potassium, wondering how in the world the potassium went to that level without foul play or an egregious mistake. While waiting for the follow up tests, he called down to the pharmacy. "Can someone tell me how you mix a dose of Ancef?"

"Sure, doc, it's easy enough, we take a 100cc bag of saline, withdraw 10cc's to dissolve the powdered drug."

"Wait a second, so Ancef comes as a powder you have to dissolve?"

"Right, then you shoot it right back into the bag, label it up, you're good to go."

"How does potassium come?

"It's in vials, 20 milliequivelents to a 10cc vial."

"A liquid?"

"That's right."

"I guess it would be pretty hard to mix the wrong one up by mistake then? Even harder to mix up a dangerous amount of potassium with a regular dose of Ancef?"

The man began to laugh, "I don't see how you could, but assuming someone added the liquid contents of that vial to the bag, it would still be only half a therapeutic replacement dose, it shouldn't do much if anything to a normal patient. You'd probably have to add more than one vial to even have an effect."

"Does potassium chloride come in the same form as the saline bag? Could someone have confused those two?"

"No, just in amps of 10cc's, and it's only made in one concentration for safety; so you couldn't pick up a more concentrated vial by mistake."

"So not only would someone have to mistakenly confuse a powdered drug and a liquid drug, they'd have to add multiple amps of the drug to adversely affect a patient's potassium."

"I'd say that's right."

"Thank you. You've been very helpful."

Just then, the clerk passed Dr. Kramer the results of the follow up lab, all normal. He had just ruled out everything else he could possibly think of to explain the potassium level. There was no clinical condition explaining it, and a pharmacy mistake was virtually impossible. He knew at that moment; Grissom must have been deliberately poisoned.

Martha appeared soon after to bring Sara back into Gil's room. He looked peaceful, and really no different than before. _Did all that really happen?_ Sara lay her head down into his upturned palm, and closed her eyes. Martha let her stay there all night. She even brought Greg in a few times to check on Sara. They kept their vigil up all night, and, mercifully, his status never wavered.

Back at the lab, Nick and Warrick were doing their part to help Grissom. They were hard at work on the crack house case. The necklace Grissom had been going for was full of epithelials, consistent with being ripped off someone's neck. The body in the doorway had marks consistent with that, and DNA confirmed he had been wearing it. Shell casings were found in that same room, and it matched a gun in the system. Brass was on his way to pick up the registered owner. Meanwhile, Nick came in as Warrick was examining a silver cross which was also found near the necklace. "So what'd you think about Sara?" he enquired. "I thought she looked great."

"She did look good, rested, and all, but," Warrick shook his head, "but I'm worried that she's not all there."

"Yea, I know what you mean. Although, I hate to admit it."

"I wish she'd open up about things; you just want to help so badly, but it's hard to do when you don't even know what the problem is," Warrick said with frustration in his voice.

"Something's making her sad, and it's more than Grissom being in the ICU," Nick drawled.

"Hey, you are so right about that, but you know, Grissom in the ICU, that _can't_ be helping…"

They just hadn't realized yet how tough things had really gotten.

TBC…..


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

Dr. Kramer was rubbing his eyes; the strain of the task at hand was not in his comfort zone, to say the least. He called home to say he'd be at the hospital very late, possibly all night. He had known Martha Roberts for years; he would have to trust her with this. "Martha, I need a word with you," he glanced around, "privately."

Looking a bit worried, "Sure, let me have a minute to check everyone, first."

Seeing that everything was in order, she motioned to the same supply room where the medicine cart was located. Once inside, "I bet I know what you might be thinking."

"There is no way you know what I'm thinking, because I can't even believe what I'm thinking," he said rolling his eyes.

"You think there was some foul play involved with Mr. Grissom's little episode," she said knowingly.

Surprised by her answer, but very relieved he wasn't the only one thinking that way, he continued, "Well, I can't explain it clinically. So, either somebody really screwed up, but after talking to the pharmacy, I don't think that's even possible. I'm left with somebody wanting to _kill_ him," he cringed as he spoke the last sentence.

"I thought about that, too. Nothing else fits. This much I can tell you; _nobody_ set foot in that room except me, and his girlfriend who visited earlier..."

They both looked at each other intently, then shook their heads emphatically declaring, "No, way," almost simultaneously. They could tell Sara was totally devoted. Besides, she's the one that first suggested foul play to Dr. Kramer.

It didn't take Martha long to move on, "Ok, so where was I, Oh, yea, nobody else went in the room that is, until his rhythm went to shit. Then all kinds of people were in there, but it had already happened."

"What about Dr. Lurie? Did he go in at any time?"

"Not until after the fact," she recalled, wondering why he would ask about Lurie. "I knew he was up here with that patient in bed six, so I asked Stephanie to get him in there to help until you arrived. You know I don't scare easily, but I was awfully worried!"

"You did the right thing," he tried to reassure her, "I don't know if I would have made it in time."

"Why are you asking about him?" Martha now had a worried look.

"I was just curious, that's all." He didn't really want to divulge Sara's concern just yet; the implications were potentially devistating to Lurie's reputation. "What about the antibiotic solution? Who had access to that?"

"Oh, right, well, pharmacy loads all the medicines for the next shift right into this cart here," and she slapped her hand on top of the medicine cart. "See, each patient has their own little drawer," she explained, as she opened Grissom's up. "Everything for the next shift is there, except of course, the controlled substances, the narcs and such, are kept up here, top of the cart, locked up tight. You need to enter an access number to get into those." The top of the cart was locked with a separate combination to add extra prevention against the theft of controlled substances.

"So somebody could have tampered with the bag in pharmacy, or even right in here?" Kramer was thinking out loud.

"I suppose so."

"OK, well I need to think about this, please," he rubbing his temples, "don't tell anybody about this conversation."

"Ooops," she put her hand over her mouth, "Well, you better hope we count our narcotics correctly then."

"What do you mean?"

She pointed at the ceiling, "The eye in the sky. We were having trouble with narcotics disappearing, even with the locked drawers, so they installed that camera. It's just like the cameras in the rooms, see it right there?"

Kramer looked up to where she was pointing, "That thing?" It looked like just another ceiling fixture. "But, Martha, I've seen the monitor at the nurses' station; there's no feed from in here."

"Well, we can't see it from the desk; there's no need to watch it in real time, like the patient rooms. It feeds to the computer in our conference room where we give report at the end of shift. It only saves the previous twenty four hours. If our narcotic counts are correct it gets deleted automatically, but if not, we have to review it to see who took out what, and get our narcotic counts right before we leave. We rarely have to use it. In fact, it's mostly forgotten about; things sort of straightened out once it was installed," she said with a exaggerated wink. "We're standing right in front of it."

Kramer's mouth fell open. "Martha!"

She looked startled, "What?"

"You need to show me that tape!" he yelled, eyes widened. "If someone tampered with that bag in here, we'll see it!"

She smiled, "Now, why didn't I think of that?" This was getting interesting.

"You're not thinking of that, because that is not the way we solve our medical mysteries, _normally,_" he grinned back at her.

TBC….


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

Lurie and his team finally stabilized the poor biker in bed six. "OK, let's call it a night, team!" The medical students were most relieved, there had been a lot to learn on that case, and therefore, they had a lot of research to go out and do before rounds early in the morning. They took off out of that ICU in a flash.

As he ambled out, Lurie paused to take in the scene in bed two. Sara was sleeping at Grissom's bedside, clutching his hand to her cheek. His jealousy raged at the sight. "Close call, wasn't it?"

Sara opened her eyes to the sight of him in the doorway. She was unable to find any words to speak to him.

"You know, I thought maybe you'd soften up your opinion of me after this, at least offer up a simple 'thank you.' I saved his life after all."

"Did you try to kill him before you saved him?" she couldn't believe she said that out loud.

His mouth dropped open in shock. Not knowing what to say for a moment, he scanned the room, shaking his head, his rage taking hold again. "Your boyfriend here was circling the drain when the nurses _dragged_ me over here!" He paused to let that last statement sink in.

Sara's breath quickened. His words were like a dagger in her heart; the image of Gil clinging to life, and Lurie being in control of the outcome. Terror was gripping her as the image took shape.

He could see he was getting to her, he continued calmer so as not to be overheard, but clearly still agitated, "I could have just let him go on down, but I took an oath, and I saved his ungrateful ass." He turned to leave, and then shot back, "You people just keep saying the worst things about me. Keep that up and you'll hear from my attorney. I've had enough of you two trying to destroy my reputation," After another pause, "I took it when Grissom tried to drag me through the muck after Debbie's murder, but now you're trying to stir things up out of the blue. You had better be careful with that," and he stormed off.

Sara didn't know what to do. She was out of her element, a crime hadn't declared itself out of this medical turn for the worse, but deep down, she so strongly suspected Lurie was responsible for the episode. She didn't quite understand why he would risk everything to harm Grissom, and then turn around and save him, but it was the only thing that made sense. Dr. Kramer said he would look into things, but he seemed so naïve, she worried he wouldn't dig deep enough.

Little did Sara know, Dr. Kramer left instructions with Martha to page him once Lurie finished up in the ICU. He hadn't wanted to alert Lurie to anything. Martha now knew Kramer somehow suspected Lurie, but it was obvious from his discrete instructions that he was wanting to keep his cards close to his chest. Now, Walt Kramer and Martha Roberts were seated at the computer terminal in the nurses' conference room perusing the video of the previous shift, followed by the current one. It was easy to fast forward to the next person who entered the room, so it was going surprisingly fast. No one dared ask what they were doing, but everyone was curious. The pair watched the pharmacist load all the patients' drawers with their meds. After that multiple people entered and left, but no one opened Grissom's medication drawer.

When they came to Vincent Lurie entering the room, Kramer's own heart skipped a beat. They watched intently as he prowled the room like a caged animal. Martha covered her mouth in fear. Then he searched the room, finding Grissom's medication drawer and withdrawing the antibiotic. He went about rummaging through the supplies, coming across the potassium chloride. They stared in utter shock as he withdrew a significant amount of the antibiotic and wasted it in the discarded needle box. He then drew up the same volume of potassium solution and shot it into the antibiotic bag, leaving the final volume of the bag unchanged to avert suspicion. He then replaced the lethal concoction back in the drawer. He pocketed the empty vials, the syringe, and the needle, grabbed something else, and exited the room.

After a few moments of stunned silence, "What do we do now?" Martha meekly asked.

Kramer swallowed hard. He looked down at his normally steady hands, the hallmark of a skilled surgeon, only to see them trembling after what he just witnessed. He looked up at Martha, "Hell if I know," he spoke in reply, "But, I know somebody who does." He rose from the chair and whispered, "Whatever you do, don't let anyone erase that tape."

TBC….


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

Walt Kramer was in a state of shock. Nothing rattled this man. He was used to dealing with life and death emergencies, but this was beyond anything he could imagine. His colleague, a fellow physician, used his power and knowledge for the worst kind of evil. He took in a deep breath, and entered Grissom's room. He stared for a moment, and just took in the sight. His patient was recovering peacefully. Sara was back asleep, cradling her cheek with his unresponsive hand. It was a beautiful sight, and one that caused him to wonder even more about the crazed impulse that caused Lurie to try killing his patient. He could only be thankful that something clicked in him, at some moment, and the doctor became the doctor again, ultimately doing the right thing. He tenderly reached out to Sara, touching her on the shoulder to gently awaken her. When she looked up, bleary eyed, she saw the worry on his face. She rose to her feet, rubbing her eyes.

"I need your help," he stated softly. "As it turns out, your suspicions were correct."

She nodded, pursed her lips, trying with everything she had to keep her emotions in check. "How do you know?"

"There's a video camera in the medication room that very few people know about. I just watched Lurie add the potassium to the antibiotic medicine." He rubbed his mouth, and then continued, "I don't know what to do."

"I do." She was reassuring. "Don't worry. This is not malpractice, it's not even a mistake; it's criminal. That's our area, not yours." Sara pulled out her cell phone, "Where can I use this?"

"Go ahead, it's OK."

"Brass, it's Sara, I need you up at the hospital as soon as possible. Greg's up here, but not with his kit."

"What's going on?"

"Lurie tried to kill Grissom. They have it on tape. We got him."

"Wait, wait, wait, what the Hell are you talking about? And how is Gil?"

"Gil is fine now, but it was very scary. The weird thing is Lurie poisoned him; then saved him. Just get up here, will you, and hurry, please?"

"I still can't even process what you're saying, but I'm on my way." Before hanging up, "And, Sara, make sure that tape you're talking about gets backed up!"

Brass practically flew out of the police department dialing his phone on the run, "Catherine, where are you?"

"I'm at a scene with Warrick and Nick, where's the fire, Jim?" she laughed.

"The fire is at Desert Palms Hospital ICU," he was breathing hard from running to his car.

"Whoa, Jim! What the heck happened?" she asked, her heartbeat quickening with worry.

"Sara just called, evidently Vincent Lurie tried to poison Gil, and they..."

"What!? Wait a minute, is he Ok?" she frantically interrupted.

"Yes, he's fine, but, well anyway, I guess I don't know much just yet, how fast can you get there? Greg is there, but he hasn't got his kit."

"You need to come get me, I'm at a scene and I rode with Nick, I'm sure he'll have an extra kit in his car."

"Just get his keys and get over there!" Brass replied as he hung up and sped out in the direction of the hospital.

Catherine was trying to figure out how to tell the guys. She would need them to finish up without her, and they were going to want to be at that hospital. But, she had seniority, and she was definitely going.

"Catherine, you give us news like that, and you expect us to just carry on like nothing happened?" Nick drawled in total exasperation.

"No, but you have a job to do until the end of shift when day shift can take over, then get your butts over there," Catherine replied emphatically. "I'll call with any news, I promise. But hey, it's not like he's not doing a whole lot better than when he went in there."

"Yea, but that was before Lurie popped up. Some people you just can't shake," Warrick lamented as Catherine took off.

"This sucks!" Nick grunted in frustration at having to stay behind.

In the meantime, Sara was speaking to Kramer and Martha in Grissom's room, "That tape is everything. Take some stills of it, use a cell phone if you have to. Show it to people, more witnesses. Then get whoever is responsible for the maintenance of it up here to back it up."

Martha was taking notes.

"Where is this antibiotic you guys are talking about?"

"Right there," Martha pointed to the empty bag still hanging on the IV pole.

Sara grinned, "Save it!"

"But it's empty," Kramer wondered, "how does that help."

Sara smiled, "Our lab can pick up all kinds of trace elements in just a swab of cotton."

Martha crinkled her nose, "How come our lab always says we need to send more blood?"

Kramer shrugged and grinned. "What else, Sara?"

"Don't let anyone take out any trash," upon seeing their expressions, she added, "I'm serious about that. And, I wouldn't let too much talk out of this ICU just yet either." They nodded and Sara continued, "Document who was here, and where they went; be as specific as you can. Just go over the events. Write it down if it helps, and be as precise as possible. The police will be here soon to take your statements. Think about what happened. All you need to do is tell the truth."

Sara looked to Dr. Kramer, "Doc, just when does Rip Van Winkle here wake up?" she asked, gesturing toward Grissom.

Kramer laughed, "Good name for him. A lot has happened while he was asleep. We usually shoot for a wake up about 7 AM. That way if anything goes wrong there are a lot of folks around to help. But, truthfully, he'll be fine. He's just sleeping off the anesthesia, and we don't want him waking up in the middle of the night with no one around to assess him. Who knew I would be here all night trying to figure out who poisoned him," he rolled his eyes. Looking at his watch, "Actually since we're here, we'll stop the sedation, he'll probably wake up an hour or two earlier. Not long now."

TBC….


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

The Desert Palms Hospital Intensive Care Unit had reluctantly become a crime scene, with an even more reluctant Sara Sidle in charge of it for the time being. The biggest obstacle was the fact that they didn't have the luxury of marking off the area in yellow tape to preserve evidence. This was an ICU with twelve critical patients requiring constant care and necessitating frequent access to the heart of the crime scene, the locked supply room. Sara asked if she could bring Greg in to monitor the activity in the supply room; document who goes in, what they touch, and what they take out or put in. That would allow her to stay in Grissom's room. She then advised Martha and Kramer to assemble the night shift nurses and other staff in the conference room and explain what was happening. Together they decided that once that was done they would simply lock that room up to keep anyone from tampering with the computer in there until the video was backed up. The conference room, unlike the supply room, didn't require frequent access during a shift.

Martha took watch of the monitors and patients while Kramer briefed the night shift staff of the events that occurred, and what would happen next. The emotions in the room were varied degrees of shock and sadness, but the universal emotion felt was fear. As hard as they all worked to preserve life; that fact that someone acted to take a life in this place, of all places, shook their world. Murders happen 'out there' somewhere; never where life is fought for so desperately, day and night, by people totally dedicated to that fight.

Sara went out to find Greg in the waiting room and escorted him back in the ICU. She explained the latest turn of events. Putting his arm around her shoulders he looked at her with concern, "You Ok?"

"Yes," she nodded, "I am, I think I'm relieved, really." She was actually speaking the truth.

"You know, the man we confronted in your hospital room months ago struck me as a man capable of just about anything, including murder," he calmly remarked as he left her and went about the task Sara had assigned him to.

They decided not to try to do anything with the antibiotic bag until they had proper equipment to preserve it. Sara was happy to return to Grissom's side and make sure it didn't get tampered with in the meantime.

Jim Brass flew into the ICU, drawing looks from all. Sara met him at the door to Grissom's room. He grabbed her up in a tight fatherly embrace that brought all the emotion bottled up inside of her pouring out. She had found the strength to stabilize the situation, but was so relieved to be able to turn it over to him and let herself react to things. When he finally released her, "What's the story, Sara?"

"Well," she swallowed, wiping her cheeks, "that man there can give you all the details." She spoke as she pointed over to Dr. Kramer.

After the introductions and hand shake, Kramer began to tell Brass the medical sequence of events. Brass had to fight his own emotions upon hearing how his friend was in such critical condition. However, since things really didn't add up, and at Sara's suggestion, he began to consider other scenarios. He pointed out the medicine cart in the supply room, the antibiotic bag, and the computer terminal with the video of Lurie. Just then the ICU door flew open again, this time with Catherine racing in toting a spare kit for Greg. She looked all around until spotting Sara at Grissom's side. She slowly entered the room, "So he's really Ok?" she asked with a doubtful look on her face.

"Believe it or not, they say he's just fine, and he should actually wake up soon," Sara replied.

"How 'bout you?" Catherine asked, wrinkling her nose.

Sara just smiled and nodded reassuringly. As Catherine turned to walk out, Sara caught her, "Cath, you might want to start with this," she pointed at the empty antibiotic bag still hanging on the pole. "The residual liquid in that bag has to be analyzed; you're looking for the potassium concentration." Catherine simply returned Sara's smile, and got to work. Sara stepped out to let her process the room uninterrupted. It was eerie for Catherine to be working around a wordless, motionless Gil Grissom. She was glad to be done, and joined Greg at the supply room.

Catherine and Greg went about their business of looking for and collecting factual evidence, while Brass and the other police who were now there began taking statements. Lurie had been careful. He left nothing behind, just as with Debbie and Michael's murders. He just hadn't known anything about the video trained on the medicine cart in the supply room. Not many people did. It was hardly standard procedure to have video on the medicine cart, but there had been a pesky problem with controlled substances disappearing from the cart. The usual procedures hadn't worked, so up went the camera, and the counts started coming out right again. Nobody thought too much about it anymore.

In the meantime, Grissom started breathing on his own. Martha commented that was the start of the wake up process. They started turning down the breaths he got from the ventilator as he took more on his own. Finally, he coughed and squinted. Sara sat up, eyes wide. Martha ran in, "Call respiratory, he's ready to extubate!"

He opened his eyes, frightened, but couldn't speak. The respiratory therapist went about the sequence of taking out the breathing tube. Gil took several deep breaths on his own, and then looked upon Sara. A smile graced his face when the tube was out, "What the heck happened to me?" he asked in a hoarse voice, smiling, just so incredibly happy to see her.

"Well," she smiled her Sara smile, "this was not the visit I had planned, being back here with you."

He reached up to his head and grimaced, "What is this? I have a headache," he said, as he ran his hand over the dressing, "and I'm a little groggy."

"I guess you do have a headache," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "You banged your head at a crime scene and here we are."

Martha went on to explain that the effects of the sedation don't go away in an instant; he may feel drowsy for hours to come, but that was to be expected.

Sara wrapped her arms around his chest, "Mmmm," she purred, as she nestled her head against his shoulder, "I guess your head's not as hard as we all thought it was."

He smiled, as he tentatively wrapped his arms around her, trying not to yank anything out that may have to be painfully replaced. He breathed in deep, on his own, and took in the smell of her. It warmed him all over to have her there, even if it was in a hospital bed. "You know," he tightened his hug, "I was counting the hours until your visit; I couldn't wait to wake up to you." His smile broadening now, "But, this was _not_ the way I had it pictured either." He could feel her smile against his chest, and it sent shivers through his body.

She started telling him everything that occurred. His memory was hazy, but things were making sense. He actually remembered being confused, and was so relieved to be thinking clearly again. "When I started losing it I think I told Nick and Warrick I was horny for you!" Sara covered her mouth, and they both laughed out loud. "I may have mentioned to Hank I named the dog after him."

Sara's mouth fell open, "You didn't!" eyebrows raised, "or did you?" she was smiling mischievously.

"Who knows," he shrugged, "I may have dreamed it for all I know. It's all pretty fuzzy."

Just then he looked out of his room; Catherine and Greg were now back at the nurses' station with their kits in hand, and Brass was off to the side with one of the nurses, taking notes while she spoke. "What are those guys doing here? They look like they're working a case," he gestured, with a very confused look.

Sara grimaced, "Well, as a matter of fact they are." Not sure how to tell him, she just blurted it out, "Lurie tried to kill you last night."

Grissom's eyebrows went up. "Yet, here I am."

"True," she shrugged, "He then went about saving you."

"OK, Sara, details!"

She nodded, and provided the particulars of his brush with immanent death, and his doctor's pursuit of an explanation for it, while he listened intently despite his residual grogginess. He wondered to himself if he was still asleep, because surely this was all some sort of bizarre dream.

TBC…..

A/N: I must thank everyone for the reviews, not only are the fun to get, but I took some suggestions from them for the last two chapters! _Thank you!_


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

Walt Kramer finished giving his statement, but remained on hand, mulling about the ICU. He had examined Grissom, and found him showing no ill effects from his intracranial event or from the surgery. While he was very pleased with that result; he was unable to extradite himself from the proximity of his patient. He knew Grissom was safe, but deep down he couldn't shake the need to stay near, to keep a vigil of sorts, after what had occurred.

The evidence was collected like any other case. Procedures were followed to the letter. "That supply room has more prints than a hotel room," Greg lamented. When they got to the tape, they learned that no one at the hospital had ever backed up the video monitor. They just knew how to replay and delete. It was the same set up they used to monitor beds away from direct sight of the nurses station except for the connection to the computer, therefore it wasn't really designed to be used that way. The biomedical engineer on call wasn't the same guy who rigged it up, so he was afraid to work on it for fear of losing the recording. Time was a factor, they still had about 12 hours before it would automatically erase, but Catherine didn't want to risk anything. She didn't waste any time getting Archie up to process the video. Once that was done, and the video was preserved, Brass had no trouble obtaining and executing an arrest warrant for Dr. Vincent Lurie. Greg left to bring the evidence collected thus far back to the lab for processing, in the meantime, Catherine called Nick and Warrick getting them up to speed on things.

The last details were being seen to. Brass was going over items of Kramer's statement with him, checking the accuracy, while Catherine was getting documents from Martha that documented the timing of the events listed in that all important statement.

Before Brass could go in search of Lurie, the man himself breezed into the ICU with his team, but was frozen at the sight of the activity. He nervously eyed up Brass and Catherine. _They can't have anything but suspicion and circumstantial evidence, stay calm, you've been through this before. _He followed his team to the nurse's station to check on the new lab values for his patient there; Brass came forward, reading Lurie his Miranda rights. Lurie laughed until he realized it was the real deal. This was not voluntary questioning downtown. He looked confused, as Brass cuffed his hands behind him and began to lead him out. "Where do you think you're taking me like this?"

"We're going to the station, and you're going to answer some questions. You can call your attorney from there." He lead Lurie toward the door, past bed two, where he glanced over to see Gil and Sara looking back at him. They were staring silently, no emotion, not gloating, but just relieved to see him go away, _finally_.

Walt Kramer was not going to let Lurie get off so lightly. As Brass was leading Lurie toward the door, Kramer moved to block them and confronted him. Lurie was quite a bit taller than Kramer, but he stood tall to him, resolve in his expression, "Primum non nocere," he spoke softly.

Sara looked toward Grissom with a confused look, he translated the Latin for her, "'First, do no harm.' The words were thought to be passed down from the first Roman physicians," he whispered.

Brass put his hand up between them, "Come on, Doc, please, I need to question this man at the station. Say no more, _please_."

"What happened, Vince? 'Above all, I must not play at God.' Forget about that part of the oath?"

Brass worried that in his emotional confrontation, Kramer might compromise the interrogation. He pushed Lurie past him and out the door.

Grissom squeezed Sara's hand watching the exchange. The squeeze caused her to take in a deep breath. She had been looking for that subtle response from him, and now she had that and the peace of mind that their nemesis had been taken away.

Lurie was tormented wondering what proof they had. When his lawyer arrived, the questioning started. Brass asked him if he had gone into the locked supply room after Grissom was admitted to the ICU and before nine PM.

"I went in there a few times; I think it could have been in the time frame you are referring to."

"So what did you do in there?"

"I had to clean up some wounds on my patient who sustained multiple injuries in a motorcycle accident. I was trying different things, until I found the right dressing I thought would work best on him. It was easier to go to the room myself, that way I could peruse the different materials they had on hand to pick from."

Brass was amazed at how slick this guy is. Without the tape, he would have gotten away with it. He had an amazingly plausible excuse for going in there. And, he knew to admit to it, since someone may have reported he entered it. That's when Brass motioned up to Archie outside the interrogation room. Archie came in and placed a laptop on the table. He punched a few keys starting the incriminating video. The color drained from Lurie's face as he watched his actions play out in front of him.

"I would like a few minutes alone with my client," his attorney requested.

"Sure," Brass smiled. He knew that Lurie had murdered before and gotten away with it, and this would just be attempted murder, but they had him. He wouldn't wriggle out of this one. There was no way to explain away injecting something into Grissom's medication.

TBC…

This quote is taken from Louis Lasagna's modern version of the original Greek Hippocratic oath. Most new doctors still pledge this oath upon graduation from medical school. The other phrase Kramer quotes comes from an unnamed Roman source, but is often quoted by modern physicians as they weigh out options in taking care of patients. "Above all, do no harm," is actually heard quite often, and is usually thrown out there as a tenet of the profession when a particularly risky procedure is being contemplated.

A/N: Just between you and me, I'm ready to be done with the evil doctor...more GSR next chapter.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI.**

As the day went on, more and more lines and tubes were taken out of Gil. His recovery was on the fast track by the afternoon. That's when he was transferred out of the ICU to a regular room. It was so much quieter and more private. It was a different unit than Sara had been in, the neuro step down unit. It was more care than a regular floor, and specialized in neurologic patients, but not the ICU level. They had to meet a whole other group of nurses. This was the area where Debbie Marlin had worked. The nurses all seemed to know them, many looked twice at Sara; the gossip grapevine was clearly alive and well.

When Gil's new nurse had him settled into his new room; she left them to take care of other patients. They were _finally_ alone together. "Well," he nervously stated, "Day after tomorrow I would have been taking you to the airport."

"Don't worry," she smiled, "I plan to see you through this. I'll stay until you're ready to go back to work. I've already canceled my flight."

"Sara, I promised myself I'd be patient with you. I owe you that, you waited so long for me." He hesitated as his eyes misted over, "I just miss you so damn much."

She shook her head, "Please," she pleaded, "don't do this, Gil."

"But, it's true, honey. The phone calls help, but I miss your touch… your smell," he stroked her hair as she looked down and away, "those little sounds you make when you sleep, and…" he lifted her chin until she looked up at him, "I miss loving you."

She was choked up by now. Gil started playfully grabbing at her shirt, "You know, I could just jump your bones right here and now," he teased.

It helped to make her laugh, "Well, you know I'd just let you, too."

His face lit up, "Let's go!" he was now nibbling along her neck, his hands finding their way under her shirt.

"Except for couple of things, Gilbert" she scolded playfully, as she pulled away, "no lock on the door," she was laughing seductively, "You are still hooked up to a monitor, which I think would go off in the throes of passion sending the whole code team back in here, and," she delivered a caring kiss to his left temple, "just over twenty four hours ago, you were having _brain_ surgery." She looked sideways at him, "Don't you think it's a little soon for sex?"

"No, actually, I think there's no better way to rest my brain," he said pulling her back to him, "send all that blood somewhere else!" and he glanced down.

"Well," she looked a bit more serious, "I think we need to finish that conversation _you_ started."

"No problem, I'll finish it; I'm ready for you to move back permanently, period." He was also sounding quite a bit more serious.

"Gil, I'm making real progress seeing that therapist in San Fran with my mother and brother. They are way ahead of me, but I'm getting there. I'm working through a lot of stuff that I could never get through without their input." She looked up into his endlessly blue eyes, "When I graduate to individual sessions, she said there is no reason I can't continue therapy here in Vegas."

He nodded and tightened his hold on her. "OK," he softly, simply, acquiesced.

"The distance from the lab has helped, too. And let's face it, you _are_ the lab."

"That's not what I want to be." She looked up at him, trying to anticipate his next words. He solemnly spoke them, "I want to be your husband."

She sighed, "Let me finish this, and I'll be ready to be your wife."

"Well," he admonished, as he settled her into the bed next to him, "Just no more side trips."

"What?"

"You know," he feigned jealousy, "like your little jaunt to New Orleans. You don't get well cavorting down there without me!"

"Hey, I was with my mother's church group! And, besides everyone should go see that place, see what happened there, and meet those people. That was therapy in itself; it was so gratifying to rebuild homes for people in need. And, I only did minimal cavorting," she said sarcastically. "It was New Orleans though, _some_ cavorting is mandatory."

"Just kidding, of course, I'm glad you went. I can't wait to hear more."

Just then, a knock at the door, and Brass entered. "Hey kids," he announced as he bounded in the room, "Well, it's just too bad that I didn't have video of Lurie watching _his_ video!" He was shaking his head, "I mean you guys really should have seen it. His face drained of all color. I thought I was going to be calling a doctor to work on _him_."

Grissom shrugged, "It's still hard to believe."

"Believe it, and without that video, I hate to admit it, but he'd be out."

"You couldn't get anything else?" Sara sounded surprised.

"Nope, he is really slick. He took the empty vials with him; God only knows where he pitched 'em. He wore gloves so he left no prints; he obviously took those too. And, he was smart enough to admit being in the room, but with a plausible explanation, we wouldn't be able to touch. There were no witness of what he did while in there. He wasn't in your room until the stuff was already in you, so he would have been in the clear, _except_ for that video."

"Amazing," Sara blew out.

"That's the way it was with his other murders. We just knew, but couldn't prove it." Now grinning, "That video does change things though. As soon as they saw it; he and his lawyer took on a new strategy. They are playing up that life saving bit as proof of total remorse. They are already going to work on the sentence even before the trial starts."

"He's asking to see you by the way," Brass added, eyebrows up.

"Well, he's not going to," Grissom quickly responded, "He only wants to see my face when he tells me he had total control of my destiny. I'm not giving him that satisfaction."

"C'mon, Gil, what's your take on why this guy did this stuff? You know kill you, save you, what's up with that?"

"Well, you know Jim, we're not in the business of why," seeing the frustration on his friend's face, he continued, "but I have some thoughts on it." He shifted in his bed, organizing his ideas before he started in. "Vincent Lurie is a brilliant man, and by all accounts a very successful surgeon, but personally he obviously has issues with anger and control. I suspect that age has caused him to question his personal accomplishments; he has no family or personal relationships. His professional accomplishments are not satisfying by themselves anymore. The desperation that comes with that realization can lead some men to a loss of impulse control."

"That explains the nurse and the boyfriend's murders, but why you?"

"You were there, Jim, you saw the way I went after him, the way he looked at me with such contempt. He knows I tried to put him away for life. He won that chess match."

"Ok, so he won, shouldn't that be enough?"

"Think about it, next time we cross paths, I'm living his dream life with Sara. It's obvious how much he wanted to stay with Debbie Marlin, he killed over it. Now he sees the love of his life in Sara, and I'm the one sharing a life with her. He boiled over, but I won _that_ chess match, and he got suspended."

"All right, I get it so far, you win that one, he hates you, and he has opportunity to kill you. But, now why turn around and undo it?"

"That's the one I'm struggling with. I don't think that was in the plans at all. And, I certainly don't buy the sudden remorse bit," he laughed at that notion. "I'm guessing he was up there like a voyeur; just planning to observe the chaos surrounding my impending doom from afar. When he was given a front row seat, he took it, but now he's got people looking at him, waiting for him to do what he always does. He turns from murderer to Dr. Vincent Lurie. He acts like the doctor again, because people are watching."

Sara had been listening intently. She had been wondering those same questions, but was afraid to even ask them. Everything made perfect sense when Grissom put his mind into sorting it out. Sara contemplated Grissom's fate had Lurie not stepped in, "I think Dr. Kramer would have pulled you through," she sighed, "I just know it." She snuggled in beside him, and Brass took the hint. It was time to let them be together, alone, and alive.

Sara was exhausted, and Gil was still getting pain medicine following his surgery. It wasn't long at all before they were asleep, wrapped in each other's tender embrace. The fact that it was a hospital bed didn't matter in the least. It was peaceful, dreamless sleep. The kind of sleep they each needed, and best of all, they would awaken to each other.

TBC….


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: I do not own CSI**

**A/N: I couldn't leave this story without some brief visits with my Secrets & Ghosts characters; apologies to those who didn't get to that story.**

The very next day after he transferred out of ICU Grissom got clearance to get up and around. He had to get an evaluation of the knee he hurt in the fall. It turned out to be just a sprain, but it did leave him a bit hobbled. That didn't stop him from grabbing Sara and heading out and about in the hospital. They walked around hand in hand, provoking stares and whispers where ever they went. Sara handled all that much better than she would have a few months ago; proof that she was indeed on the right track.

They wandered to the ER to see Ms. Bursen. She was thrilled to see them together, but she pulled no punches in teasing Grissom. He would never live down puking in the ER while they were taking care of Sara. They talked her into taking a break and joining them for a cup of coffee and a pastry, Gil's treat. He claimed he was trying to butter her up so she'd quit hassling him about the whole thing. They had a good visit with her, but left out the part about Sara moving away. They just left her with the news of them being officially engaged, and she was beaming as she said her good byes.

Another trek was to the third floor where Sara had been a patient. When they stepped off the elevator, Doris was bounding down the hall. She stopped dead in her tracks, "Gilbert!" her hands on her hips, "I was wondering when you would get down here to visit me." They had a lively visit, as expected, with her. She had already heard the full account of his admission to the hospital and then the ensuing drama, but she put her take on it as only Doris can do. Changing the subject, "Let me see that arm, girl," she spoke to Sara. Sara complied by rolling up her shirt sleeve, "Glory be! Straight as a dang arrow!" she declared with pride sizing up Sara's surgically repaired arm fracture. She nearly smothered each of them with a bear hug before letting them return to his room on the neuro floor.

"I think she's got a thing for you," Sara commented, drawing a knowing smirk from him.

They had a visit from Marion Davies, the social worker who filed the report to the ethics committee regarding Lurie. She apologized profusely; worried that she had not made the report damning enough. Grissom reassured her, "Fate has a way of working these things out. Your report was accurate, and it was as you say, not up to you to determine guilt or innocence. Anyway, if he had remained on suspension, he might not be locked up now, and someone else might have paid a higher price." Ever the philosopher.

Dr. Kramer continued to take care of Grissom until he was ready to be discharged. He had seen him through a life threatening accident, and then unwittingly through a willful attempt on his life. This was one patient he would never forget.

This time it was Sara who took Grissom home. Despite all his bravado with Sara in the hospital, the whole episode took more out of Gil than he wanted to admit. Caring for someone in the way you do after an injury is something Sara had never done before. It was a different kind of intimacy than she had ever known, and was immensely satisfying to her. Sara carried out her promise; she stayed with Gil until he was ready to return to work. When he was ready to return, instead of going right back, they took a few days away together, exactly as they had planned to do when she was to visit in the first place. Those days were immensely satisfying as well, for more familiar reasons.

Her time in Vegas was therapy in itself. She got in visits with the team, and cleared the air regarding her abrupt departure. She asked for their trust that she was on the right track, and they gave her the space she needed to carry on with that. Her willingness to sit down with each of them and talk about herself was indeed a big step for her.

She had a lot of time to reconnect with Grissom. She felt closer than ever to him. They had never spent so much time alone together in all the time they had known each other. She wasn't sure she ever wanted to work as a CSI again, but he helped her realize all the possibilities that were there for her with her talents if she wanted to pursue other avenues. They talked about marriage. They shared ideas and plans. They even talked about children. It made Sara more determined than ever to heal emotionally. She had so much to live for and she was ready to get well and embrace it. She returned to San Francisco to finish what she started. Grissom returned to his phone call ritual. He promised to be waiting for her when she was ready, and gave her all the time she needed to get there.

The End

A/N: I feel like it was time for this story to end. I could have had another medical calamity befall our hero, but I just didn't have the heart. Also, I know you all wanted Sara to stay on, (so did I!) but sending her back seemed to be most consistent with the character's actions in the series. She had just come in for a brief visit, and clearly had more work to do to get well. She's not a quitter. I think my next story will have her coming back to stay, but she'll be ready.

Let me hear from you, if you agree, or not….share your thoughts, and thanks for reading!


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